


Fuck a Witch

by Noname109



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blowjobs, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Enthusiastic Consent, Fuck Or Die, Love Confessions, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Derek, Requited Love, Scent Marking, Scenting, Top Derek, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Derek, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 04:52:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16443263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noname109/pseuds/Noname109
Summary: “What do you need, Stiles?” Derek’s voice is raw and deeper than normal. Stiles holds his head back against the pillows and just breathes for a couple seconds.“I just... I need... fuck...”“Use your words, you’re good at that.”“Oh, fuck you.”“Mm, maybe later.”“Fucker.“





	Fuck a Witch

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! Take some spooky porn! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. :)

It’s not the situation that sets him off. Maybe it’s the almost dying, cloying smell of blood, aching for a breath of fresh air that just makes him tip over that edge. 

And he knows everyone in this damn meadow can smell the second it happens because a dozen heads are snapping to glare at him, all their nostrils flaring. 

The second his arousal can be scented over the heady smell of broken skin, he knows he’s _done for_. And Derek just gives him this look of surprise right before his eyes turn bright red, mouth filling with long teeth, hands curling at his sides and tearing into those jeans that Stiles, for some fucking reason, just wants to rip off. He needs them gone, zip, nada, zero pants. Like... _now_. 

Green grass squishes underneath him as he drops to his knees with a gasp. He clutches at his abdomen as it coils in heat that pools low in his groin. It makes him groan, loud and long. It’s painful but it’s also so fucking good. 

The witch who’s standing in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by werewolves, just cackles. She throws her head back and shakes with it. A crooked finger reaches up to brush a tear from her face. 

“Oh, that’s good. That’s so good,” she crows. “Good luck figuring this one out, boys.” 

And with a snap of her fingers, she disappears in a cliche puff of black smoke that dissipates in the foggy morning air. 

Stiles slumps over himself, moaning as his clothed erection pushes against the seems of his jeans that are suddenly too tight, too hot. His arms wrap around himself in embarrassment, trying to cover his lap. 

Scott is by his side in a second, but as soon as his fingers meet Stiles’s skin it sizzles and burns, red finger-shaped marks boiling into his skin. 

Stiles hisses out through his clenched teeth, and Scott recoils back. His hands hover over Stiles’s trembling form for a second before they drop down back to his sides helplessly. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He practically roars, turning on his heel to take a whirl at Derek. “You said this was going to be safe!” His finger jabs and twists into the collar of Derek’s shirt. 

Derek doesn’t even seem to notice he’s there, eyes locked on Stiles, unmoving. It doesn’t help to fight against the blush that’s taking over the pale expanse of Stiles’s skin. He feels feverish and hot. He feels trapped and too exposed. 

Laura and Erica have left, along with Boyd and Issac. Stiles can still see their footprints in the dirt, so they couldn’t have gone very far, maybe just out of sniffing range. 

Even Stiles can smell, with his human nose, how sickeningly sweet his sweat is as it rolls off of him in thick drops that fall to the ground. With how cold it is out, he can see his body heat creating steam that clouds around him. 

He curses under his breath as his chest gets tight, making it harder to breathe. 

“Go home,” Derek growls, and he’s not sure if it’s pointed at him or Scott, but then he’s shoving Scott away by the back of his neck and stalking over to Stiles with purpose. 

Whereas when Scott touched his skin and it made the heat a million times worse, Derek’s touch is like a cold douse of water in the middle of summer. Like when you jump into the pool for the first time, weather cooking your insides. 

Stiles can’t contain the moan that falls past his lips when those fingers press into his bare skin as he’s hauled off the ground into Derek’s arms like he weighs nothing. 

“Go _home_ ,” he growls at Scott again, and flashes those Alpha eyes on him and Scott scurries away, cursing him under his breath, but unable to disobey. 

As soon as Derek can’t smell him anymore, or whatever he’s waiting for, he starts walking Stiles somewhere. 

“Der,” he bites out through his teeth. “Hurts.” 

“I know,” is all he gets in response. His belly hurts where it twists around itself, and his cock is _throbbing_ , threatening to make him come in his pants like he’s fifteen all over again if Derek would just move his hand a little bit to the left... and there. 

“Fuck,” he gasps out, and his fingers grab down on Derek’s shoulders hard enough to bruise, that is if he didn’t heal it away in an instant. His cock twitches and come seeps through his pants to pool in his lap and against where Derek’s arm is pressing into him. 

Derek pauses then, jaw clenched and flexing as he grinds his teeth. Stiles lets his head loll and rest against Derek’s shoulder, breath coming fast and hard out of his parted lips. Derek’s nostrils flare, and his eyes stay burning red. His ears turn pointy and Stiles can feel his claws digging into his skin. 

They keep moving. 

The orgasm helps to clear some of that haze out of his head, helps the heat to abate a little bit, but he can still feel it thrumming through his veins with every beat of his heart against his tight chest. 

Soon enough, they’re walking up to Derek’s house. Stiles can practically feel the smell of Derek as it seeps out of the house as soon as the door opens. He can smell the cologne Derek likes, the deodorant he wears, and the musk of his sweat as it clings to his furniture. 

“I can smell you,” Stiles slurs, and Derek’s gaze snaps down to meet his. 

The unspoken _that’s not good_ lingers in the air just like the sweetness of his scent mixing with Derek’s. It’s warmer in here, in the comfort of the house, and it makes Stiles sweat even more. He whines unhappily as his clothes cling to his thin frame. 

“You’re kinda hot.” 

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek grinds out as he carries him bridle style over the threshold and up the stairs to his bedroom, the boom of the door slamming shut ringing in his ears. He’s laid down carefully in the middle of the bed, the smell of clean sheets wafting up and around him. 

“What’s happening to me?” He bites out as the heat comes back to make him flush bright red. His dick gives a convincing twitch. 

“You’re changing.” 

“What?” He practically shrieks, sitting up so fast that his head starts spinning, edges of his vision going black. Derek pushes him back down by his shoulder and the contact makes his brain go to mush. 

“She injected you. Or something. It’s temporary, at least from what I can tell but your body doesn’t know that.” 

“So why the fuck do I feel like I’m on fire? I need these damn clothes off of me, I feel like I’m suffocating,” he pants out and pushes feebly at his pants that are ruined with caked on mud, grass stains, and come stains. He feels sticky and _wrong_. “And why did Scott burn my fucking arm? Like, I mean I know I deserve it but like I didn’t —“ 

“Stiles.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Shut _up_.” 

When Derek flashes those red eyes on him, teeth bared, Stiles does his best to fight it, but his mouth snaps shut and his throat stops making words. Instead he lets out a tiny whimper and bares his neck against his will. 

Derek growls low in his throat at this, and his fingers twist to make fists, nails undoubtedly digging into his skin. Derek shuts his mouth too, and averts his gaze, breathing in slow, measured breaths. 

“There’s water in the dresser, and some energy bars. The bathroom is down the hall and —“ 

“Wait, are you _leaving me here?_ ” 

“Stiles, you’re —“ 

“Stay,” he pleads. And Derek just shakes his head. It’s not convincing. 

“You’re going into heat and I’m not going to —“ 

“What? Take advantage of me?” Stiles snorts. “Like you haven’t been able to smell how I’m feeling whenever I’m around you. If you don’t stay I’ll just leave and go find Ly —“ 

He doesn’t even get her name out of his mouth before Derek is on him, pressed so close Stiles stops breathing. 

“Don’t,” Derek purrs, “tease me. I’m barely even holding it together with how you look let alone how you smell.” 

“Then why are you leaving?” Stiles dares to breathe. 

“Because if I stay for another second I won’t be able to control myself.” 

He presses his face into Stiles’s neck and his lips are parted and pushing against his skin and Derek _breathes in_ so deep and Stiles just _snaps_. 

Stiles gets right in Derek’s face. 

“So you were just gonna leave me here, writhing on your bed and coming apart, all alone?” He’s not sure where this is coming from. On a normal day, he’d be stammering and running away with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs at even just the prospect of him and Derek being in the same room. Let alone the same bed. Pressed this close. “Just gonna let me turn into a werewolf?” 

In one swift, fluid motion Derek has him on his back, hand closed around his throat, faces still close. Derek lets a sound rumble through his chest. Stiles feels long claws press into the delicate skin of his throat, probably drawing blood. He can smell it. They both ignore it. He moans low and long and his hips push up, almost meeting Derek’s but he’s just out of reach. Still in control. Sort of. 

His fingers tighten and Stiles holds his breath. If this is how he goes, he’s not going to complain. Derek leans impossibly closer, almost touching him. 

“You’re going to regret running that pretty mouth of yours.” 

“Is that a promise?” 

“It’s a threat.” 

“Not a very good one, Sourwolf.” 

The heat is becoming unbearable now, and he tries to tell Derek as much but he’s sure he can smell it as it fills the room with this sweet, vanilla scent that’s both intoxicating and stomach churningly, sickly delightful. 

“Is that a challenge?” 

Stiles can smell the exact moment Derek loses control. He can see and feel it too, but as soon as the smell of Derek’s thick, heady arousal hits the air, Stiles is a fucking _goner_. He’s rolling his hips up, and tipping his head back, parting his lips and moaning so pretty. 

Derek would be a damn fool if he thought he could resist Stiles like this. All spread out and submissive, belly up and throat bared for his Alpha. 

He can hear clothes ripping and shredding as Derek’s claws rip his shirt and pants off in long strips. And then he’s gloriously naked, hot skin meeting the cool air of the room. It helps for half a second and then Derek’s hands are pinning his own over his head, hot breath ghosting over his face. 

He lets his eyes flutter shut. He’s not sure if Derek is going to devour him in a sexy way, or a murderous one. 

Derek licks a long stripe from Stiles’s shoulder to where his neck meets his jaw. He lingers there, lets their scents mingle at his pulse point. And then he sinks his teeth in to that long cord of muscle and Stiles’s mouth falls open, breath coming fast as he paints his belly in streaks of white come. He breathes out these little _oh, oh, ohs_ that make Derek twitch. 

And holy _shit_ Derek is a fucking sex god. 

His cock leaks in earnest now, not getting soft at all. It makes him groan and thrash against the body holding him in place. Derek shuts him up with a growl, teeth still secured tight in his skin, broken open on his fangs. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” he squeaks out, and Derek just fucking laughs as he breaks away from Stiles’s neck. His tongue laves against that red, bleeding mark he left there. Stiles whines, and the feeling sends a shock straight down his spine that’s pulled so tight it hurts. “Der, come on.” 

“Hmmmm?” He hums, sucks hickies into his neck and his chest, mouth trailing down and down and oh _god_. 

He almost has the presence of mind to be embarrassed about coming down Derek’s throat the second his mouth is on him. But then Derek’s bobbing his head in time to Stiles’s heart, which is beating _fast_ and fuck he didn’t think he could come this much, let alone keep his boner up this long. New werewolf stamina is what he blames it on. Derek hums around him and it makes his toes curl, makes his wrists twist where they’re still held tight in Derek’s grip. His other hand finds the crack of Stiles’s ass and that’s it. 

“Derek, Derek, come on man,” he pants, legs squirming, searching for purchase and leverage. He doesn’t find any. “Need... Need.” 

He pops off of Stiles’s dick with an obscene, wet sound that should be illegal. He’ll have to make it a law later. 

“What do you need, Stiles?” Derek’s voice is raw and deeper than normal. Stiles holds his head back against the pillows and just breathes for a couple seconds. 

“I just... I need... fuck...” 

“Use your words, you’re good at that.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

“Mm, maybe later.” 

“Fucker.” 

When Derek takes his red, swollen, dripping dick back in his mouth Stiles practically screams with how good it fucking feels. His skin is damp with sweat and come, and he slides easily out of Derek’s grip while he’s preoccupied and not paying too much attention. 

It gives Stiles enough time to get his fingers wet and between his cheeks, eagerly thrusting two fingers in. 

Derek growls. 

“Greedy.” 

Stiles just pants out hot breaths in response, coming apart in his arms. 

“Fuck,” he keens. Derek licks into his slit, flicks his tongue underneath the head of his cock and tongues circles into the blood heavy skin. Stiles stutters his movements, his breath, his words, as he comes again with a choked off, garbled sound. 

And that’s orgasm number... four? Five? He’s lost count. And after that many it leaves him aching for more. Impossibly, he wants _more_. 

“More,” he voices. Derek chuckles darkly. When Stiles dares to look down between his legs, he groans inwardly. Derek is naked now, tan expanse of skin on display. His eyes burn like lava, his teeth poke out from his slightly parted lips which are covered in spit and Stiles’s come. His tongue darts out to lick himself clean. Derek’s hands leave Stiles’s body for a few moments, taking his own cock in hand and stroking. 

Stiles keeps slowly fucking his hole open with his slender fingers. Derek watches him like that, legs pushed up so his knees are near his head, cock heavy where it lays against his come covered stomach. His cock is wet and shiny with spit and dripping pre-come. 

Stiles’s other hand reaches down to fist his dick, but Derek just growls and bares his teeth again, and then his hands are back over his head and Derek is _pushing, pushing, pushing_ inside Stiles until he’s all the way in, balls pressed against Stiles’s ass. 

Stiles’s breath whooshes out of him as Derek pulls back and then slams back in. 

Stiles hooks his legs over Derek’s shoulders and pulls him down into a bruising kiss. His cock bounces back and forth as Derek takes everything from him. He’s slamming in and out, nailing that spot that makes stars dance behind his eyelids on every other stroke. 

Derek’s other hand fumbles between them and starts stroking Stiles in time with the press of his hips. 

Stiles breaks their kiss so he can bare his throat again, and then Derek finds that spot on his throat, the mark that matches the lines of his teeth and sinks them in again, and then they’re both shooting off, hot and wet and slick. 

Derek keeps fucking him through it. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Stiles emphasizes the word, and it’s loud in his ears as their noises quiet down. He didn’t even realize he was practically begging for Derek’s cock the whole time. “Fuck.” 

When Derek pulls out they both hiss. Derek’s come drips down his thighs as it slips out of his well fucked hole. 

“You smell like me,” Derek grumbles, pressing in closer, closer, closer. He drapes himself over Stiles, rutting against his skin. It only takes a couple thrusts before he’s coming again across Stiles’s belly with a grunt. He buries his nose in the curve of Stiles’s throat and they lay like that for a long time. 

“M’gross.” 

“How do you feel?” Derek asks as he mouths at his sweat slick skin. 

“Gooooood.” 

“Still feel hot?”

“Mm, no I don’t think so. And I can’t smell you anymore.” It’s almost sad, but he’s glad that he feels human again. Derek just hums contentedly. “I knew you were a cuddler.” 

“M’not,” Derek swears. 

“Sure, Sourwolf.”

“Fuck witches.” 

“Nah, fuck me.” 

“I could do that.” 

“I think you just did.”

“Wanna go again?”

“Hell yeah.” 

Later that night, when they’re curled around each other, come drunk and sleepy, when Stiles is back to being human and horny for the right reasons, that’s when Derek kisses him all sweet and tender. That’s when he presses his love into his skin. 

Stiles could get used to this. 

He should send that witch a big ass fruit basket. 

If he ever makes it out of Derek’s bed, that is.

###### 

**Author's Note:**

> [My New Tumblr](http://www.voltrons-oracle.tumblr.com)
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> Thank you again so much for reading :)


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